


Make You Think of Me (The Same Way I Think of You) (Lucky13 #12)

by megyal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Pre-Slash, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4366304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What else have you heard, Potter?"<br/>"That the new potions he's cooking up are right intense."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Think of Me (The Same Way I Think of You) (Lucky13 #12)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cindala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cindala/gifts).



> Trope: telepathy for cindala@LJ. Title from Bang the Doldrums by Fall Out Boy.
> 
> Second to last, then I'm done with this series! OMG I've spent so long on these that people have moved on to other fandoms but I still hope that they read them and like them.

The entry to the unnamed club didn't look particularly impressive. It was narrow and not well-lit; there _was_ a single, naked bulb which illuminated the three steps which lead up to a deep-set wooden door, but the yellow light was very reluctant to go far from the dirty globe. Harry knew the other popular club just up the road here in Camden Town, but that club had its name emblazoned on rounded awnings which covered no less than three entries. It was a place meant to be seen. _This_ place was in hiding, and rightly so. It was not meant for the Muggles who frequented the club up the road.

At least, Harry hoped not. He had forgone wearing his Auror uniform on this assignment; he hated it a little, really. It was a lot of heavy red material and epaulettes and even a short cape, and he always felt as if he pulled everyone's gaze as soon as he stepped into a room. His simple black jacket, shirt and jeans were sufficient, he thought, and his long hair was twisted into a loose loop at the nape of his neck.

When he stepped up to the door, the lamp grew brighter for a few quick beats, and then flashed once. Harry felt a heavy weight of an automatic shielding ward, thick like a cloak of heavy wool. It muffled the noises from the street, and presumably hid him from sight as he walked right through the thick timber. A deep silence pressed against his hearing as soon as he cleared the barrier: a crowd of magical folk milled around in a wide space with ceilings so high that they were lost in the shadow. To one side of the room, an individual robed in gaudy swaths of material sat cross-legged on a small dais, their body rocking from side to side in a sinuous movement. Not a single person spoke, and there wasn't even the smallest shiver of music. Nearly everyone, except for the person on the dais, turned their head to look at Harry with same expression: distantly blank, yet incredibly piercing. 

Harry pressed down on the rush of unease, and flinched when someone touched his arm. He turned to see Zabini standing beside him, a small smile curling his finely made lips.

"Hello," Zabini murmured, his gaze roaming up and down Harry's body in shameless inspection. "Wondered when they'd send the disgraced guard-dog along." His air became mocking and predatory. "The reckless one. The one without the brakes on...isn't that what they say?"

Harry set his jaw and squared his shoulders. "Just a routine check," he said, angling his head slightly to look at Zabini out of the corner of his eye. "Heard you got another Potions' Master for your place."

"Did you?" Zabini stepped closer to him, and Harry could feel the warmth of his tall, lean frame. "He's very good, as you might imagine. What else have you heard, Potter?"

"That the new potions he's cooking up are right intense," Harry said, now gazing back over the odd crowd. They'd all gone back to the herd-like movement as before, their torsos rocking in time with the individual on the dias. "Like a liquid Legilimency."

Zabini's laugh was throaty and self-assured. "Not quite. And the last time I checked, the potions we have here aren't on the Ministry's Prohibited list."

Harry stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and shrugged. "Not yet," he allowed and Zabini just laughed again, his dark eyes fairly glittering. "I'd like to speak with your Potions' Master."

"He's busy." Zabini tilted his head close. "Very busy, Potter. Got to keep the masses happy."

"He needs a break now and again, I suppose," Harry said, giving Zabini a hard smile. "After you?"

Zabini snorted and then spun on one heel, the gold-lined hem of his dark robes flaring around his shining boots. He led Harry to a mean corridor which turned to the left and climbed a narrow, steep staircase. Zabini pressed two fingers to the surface of the door and pushed it open in a very delicate fashion. From the widening gap, a steady bluish light spilled in a fan across the dark floor of the corridor. He turned to Harry, twirling his hand in a _go-right-in_ fashion. Harry waited until Zabini retreated back the way they came before pushing open the door a little more and entering.

A huge shelving system stood a few feet in, and Harry walked to the end which wasn't bolted to a wall. There were other shelves along the length of the room, creating the effect of a large maze. However, he simply walked along the narrow path left between the shelves until he ended up in a clear area. Low benches formed a U-shape, and amber bottles of all sizes were scattered upon them. 

Draco Malfoy stood in the midst of the U, turned sideways but looking towards Harry as if he had been simply waiting for him to appear. Harry hesitated, unsettled by the piercing sensation of Malfoy's stare.

He looked very different; his fine hair seemed styled to wisp about his head like a platinum cloud, and his face was even narrower than usual, eyes glinting. He wore a thick brown leather-like apron over his robes and gloves of the same material covered his arms past his elbows.

"There you are," he breathed, and stripped off his gloves, letting them fall to the ground. He strode towards Harry so quickly that Harry took a step back out of surprise. A table separated them and for a moment Harry thought he'd clamber over it; but Malfoy stopped short, his eyes wide.

"Look at you," he said and then he made a visible effort to compose his expression, but one corner of his lips kept twitching. "When are we?" he asked and Harry blinked at him.

"What?" he said in a whisper and Malfoy shook his head.

"Never mind," he said, but he regarded Harry's face as if he needed to commit it to memory. 

Harry swallowed. Malfoy's presence seemed to envelope him, to caress him and it felt...lovely.

"The...the people out there. They're on some potion. What is it?" His voice came out in a low murmur and Malfoy's lips parted. A sigh escaped him and his eyes went half-lidded. "What is it?" Harry repeated, sounding drunk to himself.

"It blends their minds together," Malfoy answered, as easily as if Harry had given him Veritaserum. "There's a coded component which links only those members which consume the potion. They're connected to each other, all of them. It's ecstatic to be a part of such a huge group, I'm told." His smile became fainter, darker and sweeter at the same time. Harry was completely befuddled and entranced.

"They've all consented," Malfoy continued. "If there was a single voice of strife, the group would not meld properly, you see?"

Harry just stared at him. Slowly, Malfoy reached across the surface of the table and touched a loose strand of his hair. Harry thought to turn his head away, but he didn't, he couldn't. Malfoy's hand slid around the back of his head and pulled the knot of hair loose. Harry's hair tumbled down his back in a glossy black fall.

It was his greatest vanity; four years ago, he'd decided to grow it out and had done nothing but trim it since. The length of it seemed to alter the nature of his hair from a scratchy mess of curls to wavy lengths. He bought heaps of product, natural stuff like coconut oil and so on to slather in it after a wash. It was a bother sometimes, but Harry really liked it that way.

From the way Malfoy's face softened, he liked it too.

"Don't pull any out," Harry warned him, well aware that a person's hair was an ingredient for many potions; this was why he usually had his hair pinned up or tucked under a cap. He shivered as Malfoy's fingers stroked his scalp. Malfoy shook his head slowly. 

"I've been to Sicheng and Baiae and Jaipur," Malfoy murmured, touching Harry's hair as if it had the secrets to life wrapped up in the strands. "I've learned potions that unlock the mind...and I've seen so much. I've seen your hair long and short, I've seen you as Auror, as a Seeker, as a Healer. I've seen _us_ , so many times…"

"What else can you see?" Harry asked, resurfacing from the hypnotic lake of Malfoy's words. "Did you see me coming here?"

Malfoy nodded and then frowned very slightly, the skin between his dark eyebrows furrowed. "Yes..and no. I don't know. But you're here now." His smile returned in full force. "You'd like to be very sure that I speak the truth."

Blinking, Harry licked his lips and Malfoy's gaze fell to his mouth. He moved away from Harry, and the lack of his hands was inexplicably, uncomfortably distressing. Harry moved over to a nearby stool and sat, as numb as a rock, while Malfoy plucked vials of multicoloured liquid and poured them into a large goblet. He sipped nearly half of it and then returned to Harry with alacrity, rounding the edge of the table and kneeling in front of him, holding up the goblet as if in offering.

"This...this is just for us," he said, voice level and face shining. "For a while you'll be intimately in my thoughts, and I in yours. Only if you wish," he said and his gaze fell from Harry's, tracking side to side as if he saw many scenes flashing in front of his eyes.

Harry bent forward and took the goblet from between Malfoy's long fingers. He gazed down into its amber depths.

Then he lifted it to his mouth.

_fin_


End file.
